Authors: Mary Daheim
V
IDA NEVER LOOKED
at her paycheck when Ginny placed it on her desk. My House & Home editor’s reaction to getting paid was always one of disdain. She would pick up the check as if it were a chore, and slip it inside her handbag. I often wondered if her attitude had arisen out of her need for employment after her husband’s untimely death and her pride in accepting what she might have seen as charity from Marius Vandeventer.
Whatever it was, the habit endured. After Ginny went back to the front office, Vida snapped her bag shut and gave me a quizzical look.
“So Honoria’s mad and Milo is gathering evidence against Howard,” Vida remarked, resting her chin on one hand. “Tell me the rest of it. I’d like it all to make sense.”
There was no one in the news office except Vida and me. Leo was at the Grocery Basket, finalizing the store’s pre-Thanksgiving double-truck ad. Carla was covering a small fire that had broken out in a warehouse between the railroad tracks and the river. Reportedly, there was little damage, but fires of any kind make news in a town like Alpine.
Sitting down in Vida’s visitor’s chair, I dredged up the remainder of my conversation with the sheriff,
which had taken place outside of the Upper Crust before we went our separate ways on Front Street.
“The call to Howard on Thursday was made from a pay phone at the Red Apple Market in Sultan at seven-fifteen in the evening. It went into the Lindahls’ answering machine, but there was no message.”
Vida nodded. “Of course. The Lindahls were out that night, at Alison’s school.”
“On Friday, the call came through at seven thirty-six in the evening. Howard claims to have answered it, but nobody was there. The phone-company records show it was made from the pay phone at the Icicle Creek Gas ’n Go.”
“Hmmmm.” Vida fingered her chin. “Maybe Howard
did
answer. But it could have been Susan or Alison.”
“That’s true. Howard admitted calling Linda several times that week, including Friday. He told Milo he placed the last call just before six-thirty in the evening. The records bear him out—it was actually six thirty-four. Howard said Linda couldn’t talk—she had just gotten home from work and she’d call him back. Of course, she never did.”
Vida was still looking very thoughtful. “It would take Howard less than an hour to get from his home in Everett to Alpine. Yes, it’s possible that he could have murdered Linda. But what’s this about Linda being murdered at her condo and not out in the clearing?”
I gave a little shake of my head. “It’s sort of confusing. Milo finally got the analysis back from Snohomish County on the hollow log and Linda’s clothes and whatever else that they’d gathered up where you and Roger found the body. But Jack Mullins and Sam Heppner had also gone over Linda’s condo and, of course, her car. That evidence didn’t go off to Everett until last Tuesday. There wasn’t much there, either. But what was of
interest was that there were fibers on Linda’s coat from her carpet, as if she’d been dragged across the floor. There was also the matter of her handbag. It was still inside the condo.”
“Ah!” Vida’s eyes lighted up. And then they snapped with annoyance. “You mean those stupid men—including my nephew—at the sheriff’s office hadn’t figured that out right away?”
I gave Vida a wry look. “To be fair, they may have thought that since Linda’s car had been driven to the clearing and back, the murderer had taken the handbag along and then put it back.”
“But the keys had been left on an end table at Linda’s condo,” Vida quibbled. “Oh, dear.” She ran a hand through her already disordered gray curls. “The killer was bold! In and out of the condo and its garage! And hauling Linda’s body to the car! So risky!”
“How risky?” I pictured the short walk from Linda’s back door to the elevator. It was dark. No one claimed to have seen anyone, including Linda, come or go.
Vida, who was sitting on her stockinged feet, gave me a quizzical look. “Did you save that diagram you made of the condo complex?”
I had, though I couldn’t find it at first on my messy desk. I’d torn it out of my notebook and put it under a pile of news releases. By the time I came back out of my office, Leo had returned from the Grocery Basket.
“Money in the bank,” Leo said, waggling the two-page mock-up in my direction. “Or is that a bad joke around here these days?”
I heaved a big sigh. “I’ve been putting off talking to Marv Petersen. But it’s got to be done. We’ll have to use the story for this week’s edition. I’ll talk to him when I cash my paycheck.”
Vida was admiring the Grocery Basket ad with its sketch of a snow-covered New England village that could have passed for Alpine if the ground hadn’t been so flat and the buildings so tidy. “Very nice,” she said. “It’s such a relief not to see all that old clip art Ed used to run.”
Leo seemed genuinely pleased by Vida’s compliment. “There’s clip art and there’s clip art. These days, with all the computer technology, it’s easy to come up with fresh ideas.”
Vida gave a small snort. “Ed didn’t think so.” She checked her boots, which were drying by the radiator, then sat back down at her desk. I handed her the condo diagram. Vida studied it for a moment, and then nodded. “There was risk, yes. But not as much as you’d think. What if Linda left her car parked out in Maple Lane? It’s well shielded by trees and shrubs. All the killer would have to do is strangle her, then carry or drag the body out the front door and down the walk to the car. What’s the distance? Ten, fifteen feet?”
Leo’s attention was captured by our discussion. “What’s going on? Does Milo Drudge think Linda got whacked in her condo?”
I told him that was the case, adding a brief explanation as to why Milo had come to such a conclusion. Now Leo was also studying the diagram. “Parc Pines, right? They had a vacancy when I moved to town. I looked at the place, but decided to wait and see if Boss Woman here would keep me.” Leo winked at Vida and jabbed me in the ribs.
I ignored Leo. “Across Fir Street is the veterinarian’s office, which would be closed at night. Next door to Dr. Medved is the mobile-home park, but it has a high wall around it. I doubt that anyone could see into Maple Lane except maybe a couple of units in the apartment
building. But going down the elevator and into the garage would be far more dangerous.”
Leo pointed to the rough sketch I’d made of the condo basement. “But not impossible. As I recall, it’s only a few feet from the lanai to the elevator. The garage isn’t that big, so you wouldn’t have far to go with the body.”
Vida pursed her lips. “You might be seen by someone coming in.”
“You can see the gate from the elevator,” Leo pointed out. “I’m very particular about where I park my car. I’m from L.A., remember.” He gave us both a puckish look.
I gazed innocently at Leo. “You certainly studied Linda’s condo closely. To know about the elevator location and all.”
Leo shrugged. “I was checking out the one next door. Somebody named Hanson bought it, I think.” Leo’s expression was bland.
Vida returned the diagram to me. “I’d like to think a woman couldn’t have done this. But I suppose that’s not necessarily true. Unless she were feeble, she could have managed Linda’s body for such a short distance. The hard part would be getting her in and out of the car. Ugh!” Vida took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes in agitation.
“Adrenaline,” Leo commented. “I’ve seen a hundred-pound broad deck a son of a bitch almost twice her size.”
“Leo,” Vida said, replacing her glasses, “please refrain from using such crude language. It’s—”
Leo waved an unlighted cigarette in Vida’s direction. “You didn’t get to hear the good part. You’ll like this, Duchess. The broad was my wife. The son of a bitch
was me. Now don’t you think I picked the right words?”
Vida gave Leo a haughty look. “Yes. But don’t use them again. I’m quite a bit larger than your wife. Think what I could do to you. Adrenaline, you know.” With a flip of her typewriter carriage, Vida began to hit the keys. For some reason, it sounded like a machine gun.
Francine Wells was telling Ed Bronsky he was out of order. She was right in more ways than one, but she did it nicely, with the same persuasive tact that was so effective in getting Alpine women to charge outlandish amounts of apparel on their bank cards.
Luckily for me, the emergency meeting was a working luncheon. There was no time wasted eating and making frivolous talk. With Thanksgiving only a little over a week away, the local merchants were as anxious as I was to get back on the job.
“Ed means well,” Francine was saying in her capacity as this year’s president of the chamber. “But the timing strikes me as off. It’s the holiday season, and somehow a murder hunt doesn’t fit in.”
“We should have had it for Halloween,” Janet Driggers declared, sitting in for the travel agency. “We could all have met at the cemetery. Hey, Ed, have you ever done the Humpty Dumpty on a tombstone?”
A couple of people laughed, but I wasn’t one of them. Neither was Ed, who was shooting dark looks at both Francine and Janet. “We’re talking civic pride here,” he asserted. “What kind of a town do we want Alpine to turn into? Are we going to let cold-blooded killers get off scot-free?”
I took this as my cue to speak up. Francine saw my upraised hand and officially recognized me. That was
when I went into my spiel about the need for a county bond issue. Judging from some of the expressions around the table, particularly those of Cal Vickers and Harvey Adcock, the idea had already occurred to them.
A lively discussion followed. Not everyone agreed, with Ed leading the pack of dissenters. But Francine finally called for a vote. A motion to take the bond issue before the county commissioners was passed sixteen to three, with one abstention. Savoring my moment of triumph, I headed for the nearest exit. Ed was blocking the door.
“That was a rotten thing to do, Emma,” he growled. “I thought you were on my side. Don’t you know you just shot yourself in the foot? Look at all the advertising you lost!”
Grasping the lapels of Ed’s cashmere overcoat, I led him out into the lobby with its open beams and Native American motif. “I
am
on your side, Ed. You want to crack down on crime, right? The most effective way is to beef up the sheriff’s office. You focused everybody’s attention on the issue today. Now we’re taking steps. By March, we may have passed the bond issue and Milo will have the facilities and the staff he needs.”
Ed still looked angry. “So Milo gets to be a hero,” he grumbled. “What’s he doing in the meantime? Busting kids for speeding down Alpine Way?”
“Among other things.” I tried not to smile too broadly at Cal Vickers, who was giving me a congratulatory slap on the back. “Milo’s making progress. You’ll read all about it Wednesday in
The Advocate”
Ed snorted. “I used to read all that stuff
before
Wednesday. I used to
be The Advocate.”
If Ed had been
The Advocate
, the Super Bowl MVP was the water boy. Now I was irked. I gave Ed a flinty
smile and hurried across the flagstone floor. My afternoon would be busy. I hadn’t written a word about the bank inquiry, and my homicide story was full of holes until Milo made an official pronouncement. There had been a certain amount of braggadocio in my words to Ed.
Back at the office, I was greeted by a full house. Vida was whipping her way through a wedding at the Baptist church, Leo was laying out the Safeway ad, Ginny was organizing the classifieds, and Carla was winding up her article on the highway construction. Sometimes a busy staff looks like a happy staff, even when they’re not. Still, I enjoy the illusion.
Entering my office, I stopped dead. A huge golden chrysanthemum plant sat on my desk. It was wrapped in deep green foil, with an enclosure card. Hastily I opened the small envelope.
Emma—Coffee Toss II coming up. My place or yours?
The note was signed
Leo the Lout
.
I couldn’t help but laugh. Then I peeked into the news office. Leo was the only one who looked up. I beckoned to him.
“Pretty, huh?” he said, after I closed the door partway. “I wanted roses, orange ones, but Delphine’s been sick and Linda’s funeral wiped her out. I had to settle for a plant. This one just came in today. Delphine says you can put it outside in the spring.”
“I can. I will.” I gave Leo a rather fluttery smile. “You shouldn’t spend your money buying me flowers. It’s nice, and I love them, but it’s not necessary.”
Leo shrugged. “That’s what makes it fun. The unnecessary part, I mean.”
I considered giving Leo a kiss on the cheek, but settled for a handclasp. “Thanks again. I’ll take it home and put it on the coffee table.”
“Perfect,” Leo said. “Let me know where you decide for our next venue.” He winked as he went back into the newsroom.
I called Milo immediately to deliver the news about the proposed bond issue. He was pleased, but in a rush. “We’re primitive, but we’re perking,” he said cryptically.
“If you’re talking about Howard Lindahl, there’s something you ought to know,” I said. I’d withheld my theory in the morning because of Milo’s hostile attitude toward amateurs. Now, however, I felt duty-bound to state my case.
“Later, Emma,” Milo said. “The state auditors have just arrived. Go ahead, do your bank story. It’s official.”
My head was awhirl. I should talk to Marv Petersen, but I hated to face him. The inquiry must be humiliating. And he was still mourning his murdered daughter.
But I also needed to cash my paycheck. Resignedly I went over to the bank.
The tension in the lobby was palpable. With Christie gone, only two teller cages were open. Denise was her usual vague self, but Rick kept peering over his shoulder, as if he expected to be attacked from the rear. Larry Petersen was hiding behind
The Everett Herald
. Whispering into the phone, Andy Cederberg looked so somber that I expected to see the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse gallop across the marble floor.
Marv was in his office, staring into space. He greeted me with a ghostly smile. “Isn’t this a fine mess,” he said, sounding disgusted and sick at the same time. “How can you ever be sure about the people you hire unless they’re family?”